Jesus Stole My Man
Sitting here listening to “City of Dreams” by Dirty South and Alesso (that’s electronic dance music if you don’t know) and I get to the part of the song where they keep singing the lyrics which strike a chord in my heart-space, “but I still miss you”. They sing it in an energetic and pulsating longing that sums up what dating is often like when men are the object of my, at times all consuming (I “do too much”), affections.
It’s time for a bit of clarity.
I’m queer..queer as fuck to be 100% honest about it. Yep, that’s me, a chocolate queer man living in Oklahoma (for now) with a hope that I to will co-create life with a human who likes me back. But likes me back for me. Not a pic of my torso, but me. Not how many expensive restaurants that I introduce them to, but me. Not my ability to have them reaching for air that isn’t there, but me. Not my growing public persona, but me. To you this may sound as simple as going to the closest museum and positioning myself in a statuesque way within the Kehinde Wiley exhibit with the amount of cologne that has an assemblage of fantasy and right with a side of smile that could be conceived as slightly but seductively wrong. However, the perceived simplicity is rarely there. Like the exhibit, the beautiful human pieces on display attract paying donors and become the object of affection for another.
On my journey of auditioning temples of flesh-bound promises and souls to embrace, something often transcends what I thought was possible. See, I thought that once I showed my vulnerabilities, like toes in need of a pedicure, that it would be possible to have them desire to hold my hand in public. I pondered the achievability of that after I consistently sent “good morning” messages through the ether. I allowed myself to believe that they wouldn’t want to disconnect from a gaze that was filled with passion that had been practiced for days and marinated through centuries. I considered that I would be their chocolate of choice once I massaged their heads and their hearts like no one has ever done or desired to do. Instead, I was considered to be everything that is keeping them from heaven’s pearly gates.
I’ve laid next to someone with only the sheets and sweat to clothe us. The dulcet experience full of hope and possibilities of more sweat and sunset filled experiences. I ask them a question that seems, for me, routine: “Why are you single?” Their answer: “Because what girl will want me after they know I’ve been with guys?” I press further because they’ve told me that they are indeed gay and not bisexual. I ask why would they consider being with a female with being clear on their sexuality. The response received slowly nails me to my own cross. The reason that pierces my ears is that being gay is wrong and is the one thing that is a continual “struggle”. I’ve heard this before. I’ve heard that the way I love combined with the person I have chosen to love is keeping someone from being “good”. I’ve heard that if they could just stop liking me, they would be a “good Christian”. I’ve heard that my adoration is something that has been prayed away. In a nutshell, I’ve received testimony that I am the embodiment of sin.
At this point I must ensure that I do enough self discovery so that I don’t begin to identify who I am with one of relational struggle. A cultural saying that I use and one that I’m sure you’ve heard is “black don’t crack”. With a proper diet, consumption of water and better lifestyle choices that will remain true. There is on the other hand a ideological feeling that I have been intimate with that says, “queer hearts stay cracked”. That revelation is not one that I affirm. However, it is a revelation that I just don’t understand…I OVERstand. The heart of someone that is queer that has the ovarian audacity and testicular fortitude to stand in their queerness is one that has daily lacerations of feeling they are wrong by operating in a heteronormative society, struggling to be visible and confronting the notion of true homemade authenticity. If I am not careful I could do a few things that currently do not bring me joy or healing like:
- Hate Christianity
- Blame myself
- Give up on a co-created love
- Dismiss anyone that states that they are of the Christian tradition
- Position myself into a proverbial box that I did not build
- Suffocate on the fear of living my truth
- Consider that the only option for true freedom is suicide
- Reside in depression
To continue writing I am now listening to “Speak Your Heart” by Lizz Wright on repeat (just FYI). Something else on repeat is that feeling of deep nothingness between my heart and my intestine when I realize that the disciple of love himself, Jesus, is what is standing in the way of a Saturday morning kind of love. A “babe how was your day” kind of love. A kiss me before you show me how to hold you through the night kind of love. I could speak on what is or is not in the Bible with both of my parents being pastors at different times throughout my life but I have chosen another way. The reason is because this isn’t about my (nor your) hermeneutical approach on a particular passage of scripture but rather what it feels like to wonder if Jesus is comfortable in knowing that he keeps stealing my man.
Now what?
I’m not quite sure. However, I know that there is someone that won’t have a desire to pray the Asa or the gay away.
Asa Leveaux is the founder of Queer School™. To learn more visit www.queerschool.co
